“You are a wonderfully clever fellow! If I were to ride fifteen leagues in these clothes, they would never be fit to put on again; and, instead of selling them for thirty pistoles, I should be obliged to take fifteen.” “Sell them for whatever you like, but I must have a second commission of maid of honor.” “Good! for whom? Is Montalais doubled, then?” “Vile fellow!--It is you who are doubled. You swallow up two fortunes--mine, and that of M. le Comte de Guiche.” “You should say, that of M. le Comte de Guiche and yours.” “That is true; honor where it is due; but I return to my _brevet_.” “And you are wrong.” “Prove me that.” “My friend, there will only be twelve maids of honor for madame; I have already obtained for you what twelve hundred women are trying for, and for that I was forced to employ all my diplomacy.” “Oh! yes, I know you have been quite heroic, my dear friend.” “We know what we are about,” said Manicamp. “To whom do you tell that? When I am king, I promise you one thing.” “What? To call yourself Malicorne the First?” “No; to make you superintendent of my finances; but that is not the question now.” “Unfortunately.” “The present affair is to procure for me a second place of maid of honor.” “My friend, if you were to promise me the price of heaven, I would decline to disturb myself at this moment.” Malicorne chinked the money in his pocket. “There are twenty pistoles here,” said Malicorne. “And what would you do with twenty pistoles, _mon Dieu!_” “Well!” said Malicorne, a little angry, “suppose I were to add them to the five hundred you already owe me?” “You are right,” replied Manicamp, stretching out his hand again, “and from that point of view I can accept them. Give them to me.” “An instant, what the devil! it is not only holding out your hand that will do; if I give you the twenty pistoles, shall I have my _brevet?_” “To be sure you shall.” “Soon?” “To-day.” “Oh! take care! Monsieur de Manicamp; you undertake much, and I do not ask that. Thirty leagues in a day is too much, you would kill yourself.” “I think nothing impossible when obliging a friend.” “You are quite heroic.” “Where are the twenty pistoles?” “Here they are,” said Malicorne, showing them. “That’s well.” “Yes, but my dear M. Manicamp, you would consume them in post-horses alone!” “No, no, make yourself easy on that score.” “Pardon me. Why, it is fifteen leagues from this place to Etampes?” “Fourteen.” “Well! fourteen be it; fourteen leagues makes seven posts; at twenty _sous_ the post, seven _livres_; seven _livres_ the courier, fourteen; as many for coming back, twenty-eight! as much for bed and supper, that makes sixty _livres_ this complaisance would cost.” Manicamp stretched himself like a serpent in his bed, and fixing his two great eyes upon Malicorne, “You are right,” said he; “I could not return before to-morrow;” and he took the twenty pistoles. “Now, then, be off!”